“Tour de Holmes” moving to weekly for a while

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

When I started writing the “Tour de Holmes” back in July, I intentionally waited until I had about twenty essays written before I started posting, to create a couple of months of backlog in case things got busy. Over the past seven or eight months, that backlog has been completely eaten up, and I’m not sure I’ll have time to crank out two essays every week (let alone more than that to give me more backlog).

So, for a while, “Tour de Holmes” is moving to a weekly schedule, updating every Wednesday. This will continue until I finish writing the essays. Once they’re all done, I’ll move back to twice a week to finish posting them. This does mean that, unless I move back to biweekly, it’ll take me close to a year to post the Tour from start to finish. I’m hoping that I can get some time here and there to catch up and crank these out more quickly, but the reality is that the amount of time I spend on close reading, note taking, and research before I even start the first draft is pretty extensive. It’s ultimately all good work, as once these essays are done I’m going to compile them into a manuscript for publication consideration, but it does mean that I have to slow down the pace of posts for a while.

What I Learned from “Echo Bazaar”

echobazaarBefore I get into Echo Bazaar, I want to talk a bit about the past “What I Learned” posts – “what I learned about ‘What I Learned’,” if you will.

I learned that a lot of people read those posts, and that while I had thought that this blog was primarily read by people who like writing and role-playing games with a few video game players, the reality is that I’m being read by a wide variety of people, and that I’m getting a lot of traffic from the “video game content designer” side of my fence. It doesn’t seem like I’m getting a whole lot of people sticking around here and chatting or becoming regular readers, but a couple of times now, these “What I Learned” posts have been linked on GameBanshee.com, and that’s caused a huge spike in readers, and prompted some conversations outside of my blog. Other people outside my company in the video game industry have mentioned reading them. (And yes, despite all my caveats, I got some flack on my stance on “The Path”.)

I admit, that surprised the hell out of me, and caused me to rethink my approach. Thus far I had been approaching things as “some dude just starting out in video games that might have some interesting thoughts for a handful of people,” and not “representative of a major video game company that might have his posts minutely examined by hundreds of people”. At the end of the day, it doesn’t change much of anything, but it does mean I’m writing for a different audience than I originally thought I was, so I suspect my approach to these will be subtly different. But more importantly, I’m hella pleased that people find these posts enlightening and worthy of discussion, and I will continue to do them when I have something insightful to glean from a recent game I’ve played (which won’t be restricted to video games).

So. Echo Bazaar.

I’ve been playing this for a year, I think. I was kind of holding off on talking about what I’ve learned because I was waiting for the inevitable point where I get bored with the game and stop playing, but that hasn’t happened. I don’t play it intensely, but every morning part of my work ritual has been to log in and take my actions before starting with the rest of my day. It seems like the game comes up in conversation more often than not around the office and around the Internet. And yet, on the surface it seems to be just another Mafia Wars clone. So what have I learned from Echo Bazaar that I didn’t learn from my (brief and uninteresting) run with Mafia Wars?

Non-linear storytelling can work. This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about, and even though I’ve looked at things like roguelikes and other games that stitch together random elements into a cohesive story, this is a great game that not only does it well, but very clearly shows the underpinnings of that style of storytelling to the players. The conceit of having a deck of “storylets” is strangely compelling, especially when you start to see patterns over the course of several cards. While I ‘m sure other games do this as well, this one is great for game designers because a lot of the moving parts are right on the surface.

States of failure are interesting. Something else I’ve been thinking about. While I haven’t actually died in the game, I am reliably informed that dying is interesting. However, I have gone insane from nightmares several times, and while it is indeed a state of failure (I have to stop working on whatever I had going on for a couple of days), time spent insane ends up adding to the overall experience.

Decisions have repercussions that I can see before they come. While many games are set up to have a player’s decisions resonate throughout the game, this one makes it a goal. There are several qualities based on decisions, such as being Sentimental or becoming the Friend of Demons. As the quality increases in value, you start to see storylets that relate to the value, but that you can’t quite unlock. At first, I thought this was bad sorting on the part of the software, but I soon realized that the game was helping me to set goals – I want to play in that cool story, so I need to increase that certain quality. Then the game gives me terrible choices to help me increase said quality. And sometimes the story I wanted to unlock also does terrible things. Which makes me feel all the more like it was my choices that made these terrible things happen.

Multiplayer doesn’t have to mean simultaneous. One remnant of the Mafia Wars style is that you can give gifts to other players. However, in Echo Bazaar this sometimes comes at a cost to you, or to the gift receiver, and it’s not always clear which will pay the price. Further, sometimes you need something another player has in order to progress. While I don’t feel like I’m necessarily playing the games with other people at my side, I do feel like I’m able to pop into my friend’s home for a quick cup of tea (or, more often, to share my terrible Nightmares with them).

They talk openly about their design. As much as I could go on about this game, I really don’t need to. The design company, Failbetter Games, has a blog that often digs into the guts of the game as it’s evolving. While I don’t agree with everything (naturally), it’s a great collection of design discussion that helps puts even more context to the already transparent game mechanics.

The Solitary Cyclist (1903)

The Solitary Cyclist

The Solitary Cyclist

Want to read this along with me? This essay is part of The Return of Sherlock Holmes, published in 1905. I used the epub version found on Feedbooks.com.

“The Solitary Cyclist” is one of Doyle’s weaker stories, by Doyle’s own admission. In fact, the Strand magazine almost didn’t pick it up because Holmes isn’t very involved in the plot of the story (although Watson is, so it’s a bonus for Watson fans like myself). But, to paraphrase Holmes himself, it does have one or two points of interest to the Holmes fan.

A lot of Holmes’ character quirks are reaffirmed in this story. He hates distractions when he’s concentrating, he again references his skill with boxing, and we realize that Holmes has a preference for clapping a pistol to a criminal’s head (so much so that he encourages Watson to perform the same maneuver against Williamson). However, one thing that is expanded upon is the conflicting stances on Watson’s capabilities as a detective. On the one hand, Watson’s observations in this late-canonical period continue to be keen:

…I observed the slight roughening of the side of the sole caused by the friction of the edge of the pedal.

And yet, after Holmes sends Watson to investigate Miss Violet Smith’s “trifling intrigue,” he is incredibly critical of Watson’s actions – which Watson doesn’t take well:

“What should I have done?” I cried, with some heat.

“Gone to the nearest public-house. That is the centre of country gossip. They would have told you every name, from the master to the scullery-maid. Williamson! It conveys nothing to my mind. If he is an elderly man he is not this active cyclist who sprints away from that athletic young lady’s pursuit. What have we gained by your expedition? The knowledge that the girl’s story is true. I never doubted it. That there is a connection between the cyclist and the Hall. I never doubted that either. That the Hall is tenanted by Williamson. Who’s the better for that?”

There’s also the curious conflict of exactly how much exercise each man gets regularly. When Holmes gets beaten up, he says that it’s a treat because he gets little active exercise. And yet, later on Watson says that Holmes is always in training. Watson himself claims that he loses ground to Holmes in a foot chase because he has led a sedentary life, but at the very start of the story he says that from the years 1894 to 1901 Sherlock Holmes was a very busy man, and near the end points out that they don’t often see the resolution of cases because one case tends to roll right into the next one.1 These aren’t completely contradictory statements – what Holmes considers active exercise and what Watson considers training may differ, and Watson may have been sedentary through many of the cases – but there’s certainly some confusion on their activity level. I suspect it’s stories like this one, though, that lead people to have the image of “fat Watson” popularized by Nigel Bruce.

Speaking of exercise, this story showcases the late Victorian fad of bicycling. From about 1870 to 1890, Victorians were obsessed with bicycling, with thousands of bicycles being sold every year. Not only was it a great leisure activity, but it also allowed poorer workers to increase their range of employment options (having previously only been relegated to the distance they could walk), and offered some freedom to young people of the time. While some considered bicycles to be a great boon, others worried of the immorality of young women riding alone for miles to visit barely-known male acquaintances. Based on the time period and pictures from the Strand magazine, it appears that the bicycles mentioned are the “safety” bicycles with two equal-sized wheels that we are familiar with today, rather than the earlier “penny farthing” bicycles that you see in episodes of The Prisoner or poorly-researched steampunk novels.

Some other canonical tropes are also reaffirmed in this story. There are more references to apocryphal cases (such as the one with Archie Stamford, the forger), Watson continues to lament that London is drab and gray and speaks glowingly of the beauty of nature, and we see another instance of someone using a black beard as a disguise (the last time was in Hound). On the other hand, there are a couple of new things that come out, such as the concept that private citizens could take criminals into “personal custody” until the proper authorities arrived. It is also one of the few instances in British literature of the time of a case of forced marriage or bride kidnapping – while the bulk of the story intimates that the criminals are forcing themselves on Miss Smith for her inheritance, there is also an undercurrent of forced sex that runs through the story.

Finally, even such an explicit example of case timing is still in dispute. The story allegedly starts on Saturday, April 23, 1895. However, April 23, 1895 was a Tuesday. The mind boggles.

  1. Further, in Hound, Watson claims that he and Sir Henry were “very swift runners”

The Dancing Men (1903)

The Dancing Men

The Dancing Men

Want to read this along with me? This essay is part of The Return of Sherlock Holmes, published in 1905. I used the epub version found on Feedbooks.com.

First, a caveat. This is the first short story in which pictures are an important part of the story. The story revolves around the cypher of the dancing men. It’s possible to read the story without the pictures, but some of the references (like the mention of the flags) really don’t make sense without the pictures in front of you. Annoyingly, the Feedbooks version I’m reading just has phrases like “[symbols]” as placeholders, so I had to use a Wikisource page for the story as reference while I was reading. I use the Wikisource pages for copy-pasting quotes and the like while composing these posts, but I haven’t really felt the need to mention the site until now. If you want to see the pictures, the link for that version is here.

This story has a good section with Holmes explaining some basic cryptography – in this case, a substitution cypher. One thing I like about this story is that it starts off as a fairly light and fun puzzle about some child-like drawings that suddenly turns into a dark locked-room mystery (Doyle seemed to love locked room puzzles and American wives with mysterious pasts). While Holmes does win in the end, he does so to gain revenge instead of preventing tragedy – certainly a mixed success at best.

The opening scene where Holmes deduces Watson’s thoughts by observation is interesting when you put it in conjunction with a quote from A Study In Scarlet:

“…[I]n my opinion, Dupin was a very inferior fellow. That trick of his of breaking in on his friends’ thoughts with an apropos remark after a quarter of an hour’s silence is really very showy and superficial.”

Et tu, Holmes?

The scene, however, does give a few more brush-strokes of Watson’s character: he has a friend named Thurston and a fondness for billiards. We also learn later that Holmes has a friend in the New York police force named Hargreave, which implies that Holmes may have been to America before, either before he met Watson or during the Great Hiatus.

The case timing is pretty vague, but there is one reference to “the Jubilee”. It could be Victoria’s Golden Jubilee (1887) or the Diamond Jubilee (1897). That puts the case at either 1888 or 1898. Given Watson’s surprise at Holmes’ methods early on in the story, this could mean the case is in 1888, making it pre-marriage, but most scholars seem to accept it as being set in 1898.